Shape Of A Broken Heart
by obsessedwithstabler
Summary: He moved his thumb gently over her face. Why it had taken him so long to realize what everyone else had seen for years? Maybe if he had said something sooner…


Just something that popped into my head after a marathon of s6 and s7 eps. Enjoy, and please review!

Disclaimer: Not mine!

SVUSVUSVUSVUSVUSVU

Elliot Stabler never thought that he would have to do this.

He walked around the empty apartment, shivering in spite of the warm, musty air that lingered. On the walls were dozens of pictures, and on a bookshelf in the corner of the room were dozens of books and little knicknacks that had been received over the years.

The carpet was soft beneath his weary feet, and he made his way down the hall, moving slowly as he glanced at the different pictures and awards that littered the walls.

How had this happened?

He finally found himself in the door of the bedroom, and suddenly he couldn't catch his breath.

It was obvious that the owner of the apartment spent a lot of time in the bedroom. The bed was made meticulously, with freshly washed sheets and a soft, inviting comforter. By the bed was a nightstand, and a lamp and single picture frame were the only items that occupied it.

He hesitated at the door, as though by disturbing it he was disturbing a moment in time that had been frozen. But he finally managed to take a step, and he was overwhelmed by a surge of emotions he thought he had dealt with.

He eased over to the nightstand and picked up the silver frame, studying it intently.

Olivia's smiling face stared back at him, and he felt a tear roll down his cheek. He was holding her, and they were the picture of happiness.

He moved his thumb gently over her face. Why it had taken him so long to realize what everyone else had seen for years? Maybe if he had said something sooner…

His eyes closed, and memories assaulted him as he held the picture frame to his heart.

_He'd had a bad feeling from the minute they set foot into that warehouse. There was barely any light, and instead of waiting for backup, Olivia had insisted on going ahead. A child's life was at risk, and that was all that mattered to her, or him. So he had followed her inside._

_But somewhere along the way, they had somehow gotten separated. He called her name, but the only response he received was silence. He took another step, his gun aimed and his muscles taut._

_Suddenly there was a loud crash and the distinct sound of gunshots. His heart dropped, and he spun around and ran toward the sound. But his feet felt heavy, and every step seemed to take forever._

_Finally he reached the source of the sound, and what he saw next would be forever imprinted in his mind._

_Olivia was sprawled out on the ground, and a few feet away, the perp they were after was also on the ground and not moving._

_Reaching for his radio, he could barely hear his own voice over the blood rushing in his ears._

"Ten thirteen, ten thirteen! Officer down!" _The radio slipped from his hand and fell to the floor._

_Shaking off his surprise and fear, Elliot rushed to his partner's side, barely able to breathe. Without a second thought, he gently scooped her limp body up into his arms and held her tightly to his chest. Then he turned around and carried her out of the warehouse, forgoing all protocol and training. His partner was wounded, and that was all that mattered in his mind._

_He burst through the doors that they had entered just a few minutes ago, out into the bright sunlight. Olivia was like a rag doll in his arms as he sat down on the concrete and cradled her to him._

"Liv… Olivia, open your eyes," _he demanded hoarsely. His breath caught in his throat when he finally saw the gushing wound in her chest. Swearing softly, he managed to pull off his jacket and wrap her up in it, just as he used to do with his children. Then he placed the rough heel of his palm against the wound, trying to staunch the blood flow and prevent more blood loss._

_At the pressure, Olivia finally made a soft sound of pain and struggled against him._

_He shook his head and kissed her forehead. _"Shh, Liv," _he whispered, his eyes filled with tears that wouldn't fall. _"I have to stop the blood."

_Her eyelids flickered briefly at his voice. _"El…"

_He nodded, resting his forehead against hers. _"I'm here, Olivia," _he promised, holding her tighter. _"I've got you. I've got you."

_A thin trickle of blood ran from the corner of her mouth, the dark color a sharp contrast to the paleness of her face. _"El… can't…" _She groaned as her hand came between them and grasped his shirt._

"Shh… You're going to be okay. Just hold on." _He pulled his jacket tighter around her trembling form._

_Her fingers grasped his shirt tighter as more blood dribbled from her mouth_. "Elliot…" _She forced her dark eyes open and tried to focus on his face_. "Elliot… I love…" _Her words were cut off by a harsh, body shaking cough._

_His tears finally rolled down his cheeks_. "I know, Liv," _he breathed_. "I love you, too…"

_She seemed to relax at that. Her eyes closed again, and her grip loosened on his shirt._

_Shaking, Elliot leaned forward and brushed his lips softly against hers, the kiss gentle and full of longing._

_As they kissed, Olivia managed to lift her hand and place it gently against his cheek. Her awareness was fading fast, and she put what little she had into that kiss._

_When he pulled back, her eyes were closed, and he watched in fear as her hand fell away from his cheek._

_The ambulance was almost there, but he let out a cry of fear and deep agony as her chest stopped moving and she went completely limp in his arms._

"Olivia!"

He reluctantly opened his eyes and looked at the photograph again. That kiss would be forever imprinted in his mind, a reminder of all that they were, of all that they would be.

"Elliot?"

He turned, wiping the tears from his eyes as he looked at his captain. "Yeah, Cap?"

The older man laid a gentle hand on his detective's shoulder, squeezing gently. "Are you okay?"

He sighed deeply, then nodded and went to the closet, grabbing Olivia's gym bag. "Just got a little sidetracked."

Cragen nodded understandingly. "Do you want any help?"

Elliot shook his head as he placed the bag on Olivia's bed and started to place clean clothes in it. "No, thanks."

"Okay." He walked out, and fifteen minutes later Elliot rejoined him, the duffel bag slung over his shoulder.

"Let's get back to the hospital," he said softly, and Cragen gently patted him on the back as they walked out of Olivia's apartment.

It had been a week since the shooting, and just three days since Olivia had regained consciousness. Already she was asking to go home, secretly amusing Cragen. He had told Elliot that she was too stubborn to die, and he had been right. But since she couldn't go home like she wanted, Cragen had promised to go by her apartment and get a few things for her. And somehow he had convinced Elliot to go along with him.

At the memory of seeing Olivia's eyes open after four days, Elliot scrubbed his hand roughly over his face in an attempt not to cry again.

He couldn't wait to get back to her side.

The End.

A/N: Originally this had a much different ending, but I just couldn't kill Liv. Maybe next time... Thanks for reading, and please review!


End file.
